


Weakness

by wordyanansi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 2x09, i am so very very sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:19:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after Clarke leaves Bellamy at the fire, and he reflects on their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weakness

“I was weak. You should go.”

It was over. He knew it. She knew it. Octavia’s words echoed in his head. _She won’t wait for you forever._ How was he meant to know that forever would be so soon? What could he have done differently? How could he have changed this?

There was always something. Another crisis or attack or injury. There was never any time. And if one of them had a moment it was almost guaranteed the other didn’t. That was what their partnership meant…

She turned and walked away, but it was over before she did it, wishing him good luck. He’d been dismissed from her heart and her eyes were empty of her heart. It was finished. He heard Lincoln offering to guide him, and Octavia trying to keep at least one of the men who loved her close. But Lincoln needed to go as much as Bellamy needed a guide.

He turned away from the fire, walking shallowly into the forest surrounding them. How could he be on earth with unlimited air and be unable to breathe? He tried not to feel expendable. He tried not to remember.

 

She’d dropped before he’d known what was happening and he’d been there before he’d thought, his hand wrapping around her small wrists. The look in her eyes knowing he might drop her, the beat of his heart asking what he was going to do next, if he could do this in cold blood. Frozen in time, staring into her eyes. Until hands were on him, helping him pull her back up, saving her life. She brushed them off, back to work. He’d watched her then, her strength, her resilience, not letting it get to her. That’s when he’d started to respect her.

 

She came out of nowhere and knelt on the other side of Atom. For all her optimism about Jasper, he’d thought she’d insist on something here. But she didn’t, and he wondered and the depth of guilt he felt for what he’d done to Atom so recently for choosing to love his sister, for not being able to do this himself. But she hummed brokenly, not musical at all, but comforting in a way that was universal. He was shocked by her accuracy, and relieved and how quickly it was over. She walked away afterwards and all he felt was gratitude and awe.

 

He remembered the look on her face when Charlotte had gone over the edge and the determination in her eyes when declared that they would make the rules. And through the anger and violence and chaos he felt, he’d have followed her anywhere right then.

 

Leaning against a tree and her telling him she forgives him, as if she were some divine being capable of forgiving him everything. But he felt the weight leave him and he wondered if she were. It was then that he loved her. Not in love, perhaps, but that he loved her.

“You’re not a monster.”

“You’re just someone who does what he has to do to protect his sister.”

“I forgive you.”

“I need you.”

How come everything she said to him was like a balm?

 

It felt like years he’d been here, years since this started. But Clarke had become ‘their princess’, not just some privileged blonde bitch. She was smart and resilient, and he wondered at anyone hating her now when she only did everything she could to help them. He remembered accusing her of not being able to make the hard decisions. _I was weak._ She wasn’t. She’d wanted him, she’d wanted not to lose him. And now she was sending him away. A day. One day. How much happened in a day?

He remembered how he’d felt when she closed the drop ship doors. Heart in his throat, turning and running and every thud of his feet hitting the forest floor was her name. At least they’d be safe. He’d make it back. He’d make it back to her and he’d tell her she was strong and she did the right the thing and he couldn’t have done it because she was better than him. She was fire and steel. How when she was gone without a trace he wondered what to do next. Her voice in his head telling him to put their people first. That was what being a leader was. Not his heart but theirs. He wondered at Finn, that the pacifist would burn the world for her when he knew that she would tell them to care for the ones they had.

When she’d crashed into his arms and he’d felt her chapped lips pressed against the skin of his shoulder. His heart beat was her name and he held her in disbelief in hope. And Octavia beside him speaking, pulling him out of the moment he’d never forget. Both of them. He’d found them both. He would have said it was all that mattered, but he’d lived too long with her voice in his head.

He remembered before they’d left to look for Finn and Murphy, Octavia finding him, scolding him. _Tell her. Which one of us was raised under the floor, Bell? She loves you, too, you know. It’s in her eyes._ And all he’d been able to think about was Finn ready to burn the world with a gun to a grounder’s head. _Later, I’ll tell her later. Now’s not the time, O._ And now…

He wanted to punch something. The tree. But how could he explain that injury? And it wouldn’t be her bandaging him, and if it was he couldn’t be there with her hands on him now. He felt sick. His throat was closing over and he couldn’t breathe or swallow and he wouldn’t let himself cry.

“I can’t lose you too.”

“You should go.”

“I was weak.”

“Good luck.”

He remembered the look on Gustus’ face when he looked at Lexa. The look on his face when she drove the sword into his heart. He swallowed, hard. He could do that. He would do that. He’d never follow her commands unilaterally. But he’d stand by her side and defend her, stand between her and danger when he could. He wouldn’t tell her. Because he knew the weakness she spoke about and she’d never let him stand there if he said anything now. And he had to stand there.

He turned and walked back towards the fire he could see between the trees, his face a mask of hard edges like it used to be, like the day he arrived on this planet.  He could be fearless and fearsome again.

“When will you realise we’re fighting a war?”

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things.”

“Down here, weakness is death, fear is death.”

He wouldn’t be weak either.


End file.
